Notes: I've been working on this story for a ridiculously long time and have only just gotten up the courage to post it. It's an Alternate Reality Rumbelle romance, which sometimes likes to pretend it's an epic drama.
Thanks to everyone who Favorited or Followed. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.
Disclaimer: This is a not-for-profit work of fiction, I do not claim ownership of the characters or settings in this story.
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Tailoring dresses was different from the kind of sewing Belle had been taught. She had been taught the kind of sewing a lady needs to know, embroidery, fine stitching to pass the hours and make small tokens for her husband and children. She had never learned to sew clothing, as it had been expected that her maids would always do it for her. With that in mind, she didn't think her first attempt was too bad. The dress had come out a little tighter than she intended, and next time she would account for that in her measurements, but the seams weren't crooked (or too crooked. The left side was a little bowed, but when it was on it was barely noticeable) and it did fit.
It was also infinitely more practical than her ball gown, which was now hanging in the wardrobe next to the old fashioned red velvet.
This dress was shorter, showing a good couple of inches above the ankle, lighter, and did not have boning in the bodice. The fabric was soft and simple, and would be comfortable to wear while scrubbing or sweeping. It didn't quite go with her slippers, but she had no other shoes and wasn't sure she'd be able to find any without direction. Besides which, her slippers were comfortable. Comfort, she thought, was probably better at this point than fancy.
It was definitely better for dashing down stairs in.
She got all the way to the kitchens without needing to stop to catch her breath as she would have in the ball gown, and smiled at her accomplishment. By now her cups were dry, so she set about heating another kettle of water over the kitchen fire. By this point she was also hungry, but unsure what to do about it. She had no idea if she was expected to eat with her master, or if she was supposed to take her meals here in the kitchen out of sight. After some deliberation she decided that eating here would do, and snooped through the larder to find a suitable something to snack on while she waited for water to boil.
She settled on an apple and some hard cheese and ate them at the table, thinking about what she should do next. She supposed she ought to clean something, given that was her job now, and got to thinking about what might be easiest to tackle first. She should probably explore the kitchen properly too, to make sure she knew where everything was, and maybe she could tidy it a little while she was at it.
The kettle began to whistle and she realised that she already had something to do. Tea in the afternoon, he'd said.
Belle brewed tea in the same pot as before. She set two cups on the tray, just in case she was asked to pour one for herself again. Not that she would mind. A cup of tea would be quite nice about now, actually.
By the time she emerged from the kitchen he was already there, sitting in the same place he had been that morning.
Belle walked up to him, noting that his eyebrows rose a little as her looked her dress up and down. As she set the tray down on the table he commented; "That belonged to my last caretaker."
"I had to take it in a little," Belle admitted, stroking the fabric of her skirt self-consciously. "I hope you don't mind me using her things."
"Why would I?" he asked, and reached for the tea pot, "she's dead."
"I don't know," Belle admitted. "You might be sentimental."
Rumpelstiltskin laughed. She cracked a smile. She had to admit, the idea of the sorcerer being sentimental did seem a bit ridiculous. "I'm never sentimental over dead things," he told her cheerfully. "Especially not dead mice."
He was telling her that the girl, the deceased M, was a timid thing. "She didn't last very long, did she?" Belle asked him, just to confirm her own theory.
"Worried you might be next?" Rumpelstiltskin arched an eyebrow and smirked, his expression sly.
"Only that it might be too soon," Bell answered, eyes on the table to avoid looking at his face. She was being intentionally bold, since he'd just hinted that he didn't care for timid girls skulking about like mice. "I'll be the next caretaker to die, certainly. It's a matter of when that concerns me."
"… Clever." She risked a glance up at him, and saw that Rumpelstiltskin was looking at her with an odd, thoughtful expression on his face. He saw her looking and promptly switched it for a sly smile. "Lets give it a week, shall we? One week, and I shall be able to tell you if I think this arrangement is going to work out."
Belle thought it over. A week of uncertainty, not knowing for certain if she was doing things right and pleasing him enough that she wouldn't meet the same fate as the last caretaker. Well, she thought, a week was better than a forever of not knowing. "Deal, sir."
"You're a very strong minded wee thing," he observed, and sipped his tea. "I wonder if your father ever knew how strong minded."
Startled, Belle realised she hadn't actually thought of her father since appearing in the Dark Castle. He was safe though, she was sure, and probably fuming over her decision to take the deal. "Probably not," she admitted dryly.
"And your… fiancé?"
Belle sighed. "Definitely not."
Rumpelstiltskin tittered. He put down his cup. "Dinner at six please, dearie. Don't be late."
Belle took that as her cue to leave, and bobbed a quick curtsy. "Yes, sir." She made her exit into the kitchen to continue tidying. And while she was at it she might as well try and figure out what on earth she was going to do about dinner.
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She set the pan on fire.
Not on purpose, of course, but it was afire nonetheless. Determined to save it, or at least not to burn down the kitchen, Belle quickly pumped water into a large bowl and tossed it over the pan. The fire extinguished, and the contents of the pan bubbled and hissed with the sudden addition of water. As fast as she dared, hands wrapped in the fabric of her skirt, she grabbed the pan's handle and pulled it from the stove. It was only after she put it down on the table that she realised it would probably burn a mark into the top.
"Oh… bother."
Bother was the strongest word she could make herself say aloud, though many more appropriate words were running through her head. Belle poked at the contents of the pan with a wooden spoon, trying to decide if they were edible or not. She hooked a bit of the concoction on the end of the spoon and brought it to her mouth, blowing on it first to cool it.
It was… remarkably good. A smoky flavoured stew sort of thing. Served with some bread and wine it might just be passable.
Belle breathed a sigh of relief that her efforts hadn't been for nothing. (And that the fire could remain a gloriously silent secret, just between her and the kitchen stove.)
She spooned a portion of the mess onto a plate, with a slice of bread, and hunted for a bottle of wine that might compliment it. She found a bottle that might do – she couldn't be sure without tasting it – and put it on the tray with the food. She could hear the clock in the great hall just begin to chime and hurried to carry the tray out there. She made it just as the clock stopped chiming, just in time to see Rumpelstiltskin appear from thin air at the head of the table.
Belle carried the tray up to him and fixed the setting properly, with the plate of food in the middle. She almost hesitated at pouring the wine, but did so anyway, and stepped back when she was done.
Rumpelstiltskin sat down, picked up his fork, and then raised an eyebrow dubiously. "And what is this?" he asked, poking at the stew.
"It's much better than it looks," Belle assured him, actually looking forward to the bowl of it she'd kept for herself in the kitchen.
He gave her a look that clearly said he very much doubted that, but tried a mouthful anyway. Again, the thoughtful look appeared on his face. He gave her a sidelong look. "I can't imagine even a country noble's daughter was ever taught how to cook."
"It's not that hard," Belle lied, hoping he didn't see through it.
His giggle told her that he probably had.
She ate alone in the kitchen, enjoying the dish that she'd decided to christen 'accident stew'. When she was finished, she tried washing the plates and the pan she'd used to cook it. The plates she had no difficulty with, but the pan proved stubborn. By the time she was done scrubbing it clean she was hot, sweaty, and convinced that the secret ingredient in her dish must have been glue. Still, she couldn't help but be proud of herself for making something edible, and made her way up to her room that night with a sense of accomplishment she had rarely felt at home.
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Breakfast, however, proved a challenge she didn't seem able to meet. Luckily for her, when she appeared in the great hall with bread and butter and little else, Rumpelstiltskin did not. Nor did he appear in the minutes following. Belle took the bread back to the kitchen and waited for him, filling the time with small chores as she noticed them. When the clock chimed the half hour mark she finally gave up and ate the bread herself. It appeared Rumpelstiltskin did not eat breakfast.
With the kitchen clean – or as clean as she knew how to make it – she went hunting for cleaning supplies, certain that they'd be on the ground floor somewhere. Or perhaps in the servants' wing. It took her longer than she would have liked to find the appropriate store room, though when she did finally stumble across it she was immediately convinced that she'd never be in need of more rags, mops, buckets or brooms. The room housed enough of each for a bevy of cleaners. Which, if this had been a normal castle with a normal staff, there would have been.
After some small amount of deliberation she decided that a duster was her best option. It made sense to her that dusting should be done first in whatever room she began, since doing it after sweeping would only mean she'd need to sweep again.
And, come to think of it, it made the most sense to start in the great hall. After all, that did seem to be both the room that was used the most (aside from, she assumed, the north tower and wherever Rumpelstiltskin slept) and the room that housed the main entrance. If they ever did get visitors they'd most likely come through the great hall, so keeping that clean and tidy would be necessary to making a good impression.
Belle worked as carefully and efficiently as she could, slowly figuring out that it was best to remove everything from the surface she wanted to clean, and then clean the bits and pieces themselves before putting them back again. It was a labour that she definitely wasn't used to, and soon she could feel her back begin to ache. Her feet too, a little. And her nose had begun to object to the amount of dust being stirred up. She covered a sneeze with a hand and wished she'd thought to bring one of M's many handkerchiefs down with her. She sniffed, feeling very unladylike, and resolved to carry one around with her in future.
She had done more than half of the room when the clock chimed eleven in the morning, and she paused for a moment to decide if she should keep going or if she should stop and retreat to the kitchen to prepare the midday meal. After a moment she decided she would finish this last pedestal, and fix the rest of the room in the afternoon. The only thing on this pedestal was one of those large vases full of dried flowers. Belle tucked her duster under one arm and carefully lifted the vase from its resting place. She turned, expecting nothing to be behind her. Only all of a sudden there was Rumpelstiltskin, commenting casually; "So you are working. I had wondered, you know. Most nobles tend to gripe a bit before they get started."
Belle gasped, startled by his sudden appearance, and barely managed to keep her grip on the vase. Vanishing was very handy for sneaking up on people, it seemed! "Sir! You scared me half to death, I could have dropped this!"
Rumpelstiltskin looked at the vase, then back at her face. "Well you didn't, so there's that."
"And you could have told me you didn't eat breakfast," she added, stepping around him so she could put the vase down as she'd intended.
"I don't eat breakfast," he said, clearly delighting in being contrary. "Now you've been told."
"Thankyou," Belle replied, her tone much politer than it could have been. She wiped the vase down with a rag, then went to dust the pedestal.
"I don't eat much at all, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin told her, perching oddly on the back of a chair. Like an overgrown bird, Belle thought. Or a clinging lizard of some kind. "Just the one meal, so don't trouble yourself about breakfasts or lunches. You have plenty else to keep you busy, I'm sure."
Belle wanted to ask how on earth he could stand just one meal a day, but kept her tongue. Magic, she supposed, or something else. He wasn't strictly human, after all. "Should I replace these flowers?" she asked instead, meaning the dried stalks sitting forlornly in the vases around the room.
"You won't find any flowers around here, but you're welcome to try." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the outdoors.
Belle thought about the probability of finding flowers in the overgrown mess of the castle gardens and sighed. Best not, at least until she found some pruning shears. She pulled the withered stalks from the vase and set them on the table, then moved the vase back to its pedestal. When she turned back the stalks were gone, and in their place was a fresh bunch of carnations. "Oh!"
Rumpelstiltskin examined his nails, preening a little at her obvious awe. A wave of his hand and the withered flowers in the other vases about the room sprouted into freshly cut carnations.
"What happened to finding flowers outside?" Belle asked, picking up the bunch from the table to put them back in their rightful place.
"Wouldn't want you getting lost," he said. "You might wind up falling down a hole, or eaten by ravenous wolves, and then I'd be without a caretaker. Again."
"Are there ravenous wolves in the gardens?" Belle asked, startled.
He smirked. "You never know."
She hoped he was joking.
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The larder in the pantry had expanded its repertoire since breakfast. The half-eaten loaf of bread had been replaced with one that smelled as if it were fresh from the oven, and there were now three jars of tea where before there had only been one. In addition to that there appeared to be a cured ham wrapped in cloth, several new cheeses, and a small basket full of parsnips.
She wondered at this for a moment, then realised the answer would be the same as the revitalised flowers. Clearly this had something to do with magic, though whether it was the larder itself that was magic or if Rumpelstiltskin had put them there she had no idea.
Deciding it was easier to just accept it, Belle cut herself a piece of the ham, as well as some of the cheese and bread for her midday meal.
She sat down at the kitchen table to eat, happy to rest her feet. By the time she was done she didn't actually want to get up and finish the rest of the great hall. She got up with a sigh anyway, reasoning that if she didn't do it now then she'd have to do it later and it was better to get it over and done with. Besides, it was a lot nicer in there already, especially with the flowers.
It took her longer than she would have liked to finish up, and by the time she did she was hot and sweaty.
She hadn't seen any bathing rooms, though she knew there had to be one somewhere, so she pumped water into the basin in the kitchen and used that. With the water and a clean cloth she was able to manage a passable wash – at least of the parts of her that weren't clothed. She resolved to explore the servant's wing later and see if she couldn't find a bath of some kind. Being unable to wash at all would soon get very tiresome, so she'd best find a way to keep herself clean.
By that time it was mid-afternoon, so she set tea to brewing – this time from one of the new jars – and prepared the tray to take it out on. She was tired enough that her arms shook a little as she carried the tray out to the hall, cups and teapot rattling alarmingly against the silver tray. Rumpelstiltskin, already seated at the head of the table, watched her as she walked. She had the distinct impression that he was waiting for her to fall over or spill something and was therefore determined not to.
She managed to set the tray down on the table in front of him without mishap, and smiled in triumph.
"Like clockwork, you are," he noted dryly, letting her pour the tea. "Soon I'll have to check if you're actually human, not some clever clockwork creation made to trick me out of a good deal."
"If I were clockwork, wouldn't that be a better deal?" Belle asked, brushing a stray hair out of her face. She was going to have to find more effective ways to tie her hair back.
"It's true, that would make you a marvel, but I made a bargain for the living daughter of a nobleman, not a machine. Bad business practice, dearie, letting people give you different things than what you asked for."
Presumptive, but almost certain he wouldn't object, Belle poured herself a cup of the tea as well, though she didn't sit to drink it. "I wouldn't know," she replied politely. "I've never had much to do with trade."
"Never cooked either," he quipped, smirking over the rim of his teacup.
It took her a second to realise that might have been meant as a compliment. "I would do better if I had some instruction. Noble girls don't get taught that sort of thing, normally."
"And what do they get taught?" Rumpelstiltskin asked with a sly, teasing tone. "Seventy different types of curtsy? Twelve ways to flirt with a man using nothing but a fan and your handkerchief? The art of boffin-headed babble?"
"Etiquette, deportment, diplomacy," Belle listed, pausing to take a sip from her cup, "how to manage servants and do the household accounts, in case my husband was away or otherwise unable to do so himself. Embroidery… croquet. Nothing that seems particularly useful now."
"You'll learn," he assured her with a smile. "And if not, I can always kill you."
It was something that had been turning over in her mind, though she'd been trying not to dwell on it. "I suppose so," she agreed. "I just hope you won't make a mess if you do. That seems like it would be counterproductive."
Rumpelstiltskin laughed, a sound just a touch different than his theatrical giggle. She'd clearly startled him, and it was obviously a good thing. "Quite right. Very well, if I kill you," he promised, raising his right hand, "I will do so in a way that does not make a mess."
"It's only fair."
A contemplative silence fell, as Belle thought about the trouble she was going to have keeping a place this big clean all by herself and Rumpelstiltskin had whatever mysterious thoughts he had. With her tea finished, Belle placed her cup down on the tray and waited for him to do the same.
"By the way," he said as she was leaving, making her pause in the doorway, "nice job on the hall."
Belle smiled, genuinely pleased that he'd cared enough to notice her hard work. "Thankyou," she replied, and bobbed a slightly awkward curtsy, "sir."
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Her attempt at cooking dinner went only a little better than last night's accident. At least in the sense that this time she had left herself enough time not to be rushed and had time to think of what she might do. A little further exploration of the larder had led her to a meat locker, from which she selected a joint something that she was only partially certain was lamb. She made a mess of cutting it, probably wasting more than was necessary, but managed to come up with enough for two. She set a pot of water on the stove to boil and a pan for the meat, which was soon sizzling away just fine. Into the pot she put some chopped parsnips, potato, and a chopped up leek that she'd found hiding behind a jar of preserves.
Everything went quite well, or so she thought, until she tried to turn the meat over. At which point she discovered it had stuck to the pan.
By the time she managed to scrape it off and turn it over the side it had been resting on was almost completely black. Belle sighed. She could only hope it didn't taste as bad as it looked, otherwise they were having parsnips, potatoes and leek and that was it.
When everything was cooked, she portioned it out into two plates, and took hers to the kitchen table to test. The meat wasn't as bad as she'd thought, though it was obviously a bit scorched and had a hint of charcoal in the flavour. It was a bit bland, but it was passable enough. It wouldn't be poisoning anyone anyway. The same could be said of the vegetables. A touch plain, but passable. She was going to have to experiment with spices when she found them. Or sauces.
How on earth did you make sauce?
The clock struck six just as she emerged from the kitchen, her arms shaking only a little as she carried the tray out. This time she was there to see Rumpelstiltskin appear, and this time noticed that he didn't so much just appear from thin air as he did shimmer into existence, a faint purple smoke dissipating into the air around him.
"Do you always use magic to get from place to place?" she asked without thinking, weariness making her more talkative than she felt she should be.
The sorcerer blinked at her. "Not always. It can be useful, place this big, but 'not always' just the same."
"Oh." Belle put the tray down on the table and set the placing at the head. "I'm sorry," she said pre-emptively, "it's a bit plain."
Rumpelstiltskin prodded the meat with the tip of his knife. "It's a bit burned."
She blushed. She knew she did, she could feel her whole face get hot. "I'm sorry, sir. I did tell you I was never taught how to cook."
"Nevermind. You'll learn." He popped a piece of the meat into his mouth and chewed, watching her face. "I've had worse."
It sounded as if it were meant to be reassuring. All it really did was make her wonder how bad 'worse' had been. He didn't seem inclined to make conversation then, so Belle excused herself politely and went back to the kitchen to tackle her own dinner. Despite its plainness she ate it quickly, hungry after a long day full of physical exertion. She wasn't used to so much physical work, and knew she'd be sore in the morning.
Small tasks tomorrow, she thought.
When she emerged from the kitchen after eating Rumpelstiltskin was gone, his plate left empty on the table. Belle decided to take it as a good sign and not wonder whether he'd magicked the food elsewhere. Possibly to feed the probably-fictional ravenous wolves in the gardens. She washed the pot, pan, and dishes, and set everything back into its proper place. Then, feeling far too tired for the early hour, she lit a lamp and made her way back to the servant's wing.
Belle had intended to do some sewing that night, to try and give herself another dress to wear. That plan went to pot the minute she entered her bedroom. Instead she found herself curling up under the covers of her bed, which felt amazingly comfortable to her tired body. Unlike the night before she was asleep within minutes, dead to the world and all around her.
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When Belle woke up the next morning she was sore all over. Her back hurt, her shoulders hurt, even her arms hurt. She knew it wasn't the bed this time. The act of dressing made her sore muscles twinge unpleasantly, telling her she might have overdone it the day before. She would have to approach today differently, perhaps by taking the time to explore the ground floor and servant's wing properly. After all, she reasoned to herself as she tied her hair back, she couldn't be properly useful until she knew where everything was.
With that in mind (and a new respect for the servants and maids back at her father's castle), she wandered down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for herself. She figured she would start on that side of the floor and work her way around, poking into every door that she found.
From an explorer's point of view the castle was fascinating, full of odd nooks and rooms filled with items both useful and pointless alike. She found the laundry room, which she could identify from the huge empty tubs, the stocks of lye soap, stacks of buckets, mangle, clothes horses, and the two water pumps by the far wall. She found rooms full of furniture covered in cloth, dusty and obviously long forgotten. She even found a room that seemed to contain nothing but stuffed animals and hunting trophies, all of them looking rather sad under a coating of cobwebs and dust. Her favourite of those was a large, odd looking lizard that fascinated her enough that she was quite tempted to try and move it out to somewhere it would be appreciated. In the end she decided to leave it and move on. She had no idea how Rumpelstiltskin would feel about finding the stuffed lizard in the hall. For all she knew he might hate it.
She found a lesser hall with a small round table and several chairs, and plenty of tight passageways that she suspected had been built so that the castle servants could come and go without disturbing the nobles who lived there.
The servant's wing wasn't particularly exiting, all told. There were no mysterious store rooms, no surprises like the room full of stuffed animals. Belle did find a bathing room, one with several small tubs and a large sunken recess in the floor that might have once been intended for communal bathing. The whole place smelled a little musty, like too much floral scented soap, but she was glad to find it anyway. The rest of the wing seemed to be nothing but small one person rooms similar to the one she slept in.
Belle returned to the kitchens just after midday for lunch, carrying a basket from her room. She had decided to take another of the deceased M's dresses with her, along with the things she would need to alter it. If she wasn't up to doing more cleaning (and she wasn't, not just yet) then she might as well do something else that needed doing. She could wear this dress maybe once more before it would be in desperate need of a wash. Having two practical outfits would be much more convenient, that way she could alternate. Wash one, wear the other, and repeat the process as necessary.
The kitchen had just the right amount of light for sewing, so Belle passed the first half of the afternoon sitting at one of the kitchen tables, carefully unstitching and restitching the dress to suit her measurements. She managed to get it mostly done before she needed to stop and brew afternoon tea.
Her arms didn't shake as she carried the tea tray today, though she could feel a twinge in her shoulders and upper arms at the weight. It would be better tomorrow, she thought. And then she could try her hand at cleaning out another part of the lower floor.
Rumpelstiltskin appeared as she was pouring him tea, dressed more casually than she'd seen him before in red silk and black suede. His tall boots had been replaced with a pair that only came to calf-height. A casual, day at home outfit, she thought.
The sorcerer accepted the cup of tea she'd poured for him with a nod. He eyed her as she poured one for herself, then said; "You can sit, you know. The chairs don't bite."
"I wasn't sure I should," Belle admitted. "At home the servants would never presume to sit without permission in case they caused offense. I assumed I should do the same."
"Never feel afraid to sit in my presence," Rumpelstiltskin told her, "unless I specifically tell you not to, and there are few times I might do that."
"What if there's company?" Belle asked, and pulled out a chair to take a seat at the table.
"I rarely have company." He smiled, and it wasn't a very nice smile. "It's a rare soul who dares disturb me at my home."
"I imagine after the first few were fed to the wolves the rest of them would hesitate at coming."
Rumpelstiltskin giggled. "Something like that."
"You wouldn't really feed visitors to wolves, would you?" Belle asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"Not if they weren't just here to waste my time, dearie."
"Have you fed someone to wolves before?" The sorcerer was giving her an odd look now. Belle flushed, eyes dropping down to her tea. "I'm sorry, forgive me. I shouldn't ask such questions."
"I don't normally feed people to wild animals," Rumpelstiltskin answered after a moment, ignoring her apology. "I might put them in a situation where they happen to be close by to hungry carnivores, possibly without any weapons at hand. But there's always a chance they might survive… however slim. Curiosity never killed, dearie."
Belle smiled a little, though she knew her face was still flushed. "That's odd, my nursemaid always used to tell me that curiosity killed the cat."
"Curiosity didn't kill it, stupidity did. One can be curious without being stupid."
Belle thought about that, weighing it against the few things she knew about him. He didn't like shrinking violets, he liked to impress people (if not with magic then with theatrics) and enjoyed being intimidating. However, he'd basically just told her that he didn't mind questions. But not time wasting questions, she guessed, not stupid or incessant questions.
"In my experience…" she began carefully, "the two seem mutually exclusive."
Rumpelstiltskin gave her one of his sly grins. He chuckled. "Ah, that would be because the curious stupid ones get themselves killed, leaving only those who are one or the other."
"Do you have to deal with a lot of stupid people?" She imagined he would, since everyone knew Rumpelstiltskin as the deal maker. If you wanted something, and were willing enough (or desperate enough), he was the one to ask.
"You have no idea."
"Well," Belle said, her tea finished, "I'll try not to let my curiosity stray into stupidity."
"Oh my dear," Rumpelstiltskin chuckled, "I doubt we have to worry about that."
That, Belle noted, was obviously a compliment.